


Pup

by bloodandcream



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Aftercare, Cock Warming, Dom Sam, Enemas, Gags, M/M, Puppy Play, Sex Toys, Sub Dean, Watersports
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-13
Updated: 2015-07-13
Packaged: 2018-04-09 02:36:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,268
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4330569
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bloodandcream/pseuds/bloodandcream
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean didn’t talk, he was already deep enough in his head, just nodded. Sam reached up and closed the wide band of leather around Dean’s neck, buckling it in the back. The leather was scuffed and worn smooth, a simple black band with a D-ring in the front. They’d had it since before Sam went to Stanford. Dean had kept it. The whole time. Sam’s big hands cradled his head, thumbs brushing against the edge of the collar. “Good pup.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pup

Dean groaned and rolled on to his side that was facing away from the small kitchenette where the light was streaming in through the window. Sam was sitting at the formica table with his laptop open and a bag of fast food, looking like he’d been awake for a while. He could totally read his laptop without having to open the goddam curtains.

His ribs still ached but all the bruises had faded from their last hunt which was four days and six states behind them by now. They’d been drifting for a little while, half heartedly looking for a hunt. No real leads had popped up, and honestly the two of them weren’t looking that hard. Dean was tired. He was drop dead tired and it wasn’t just cause he’d slept maybe three hours a night and lived off caffeine and adrenaline.

Sometimes, they needed a bit of a rest.

Reaching for the nightstand, Dean picked up the bottle of Jack and realized it was empty, the label half picked off and the cap missing. Scrubbing a hand over his face, he picked at the corner of his eyes and scratched stubble. They weren’t on a hunt and he was still getting maybe four hours of sleep at night tops. Although, he doesn’t really remember when he managed to pass out last night.

Throwing the blankets off, Dean half fell and half rolled out of bed to make his way to the bathroom. It tasted like something had died in his mouth, reanimated, then was salt and burned. Pissing and brushing his teeth, Dean scowled at his reflection before stumbling to the kitchenette to grab at the fast food bag.

Without even looking up from his laptop, Sam tutted at Dean and swiped the bag away. Holding up a bottle of water, Sam pursed his lips.

“Drink first.”

Dean grunted and took the water. He wasn’t in the mood to fight. The bad kind of fight or the good kind of fight. He just felt drained and irritable.

“Jesus you look like shit. Not catching up on your sleep?”

“Not really.”

“When did you pass out last night?”

“Don’t remember.”

Sam was jiggering his leg up and down, arms rested on his thighs with hands hanging down in between as he hunched over himself and watched Dean finish the whole bottle of water in one go.

Dean grabbed for the bag of food again and Sam caught his hand.

“I think we should take a vacation Dean.”

“What?”

Oh. Oh, a vacation. Sam was just looking at him.

Yeah, maybe that would, that could do the trick. Usually did. Dean wasn’t too sure why it was just…. easier to let a lot of things go, even if temporarily.

“I uh. You think so Sammy?”

Sam had loosened his grip but held lightly on to Dean’s wrist, pulling him closer in to the vee of Sam’s legs as an arm looped around Dean’s waist.

“You’re not looking too good. Let me take care of you.”

Dean scratched the back of his neck and looked out the front window, the sun bright on cracked black asphalt and a rusted mini van sitting in the middle of the lot with weeds pushing up everywhere they could. He looked down at Sam. Really, it was Dean’s call, but yeah. He could use a vacation. A little simplicity.

“Sure, just, let me get ready.”

Ignoring the fast food bag now, Dean grabbed the Impala’s keys and made his way out barefoot in his boxers to get the bag that was stashed in the back of the trunk. All the way in the back. Buried. Jogging back in to the motel room, he dropped the bag of equipment on the table in front of Sam, who had shut his lap top and was watching. Dean dug a few things out and left the bag open as he turned for the bathroom.

Shutting the door behind himself, Dean took a deep breath and set the enema kit and lube on the edge of the sink. Stripping down, he leaned against the cold tile of the wall and rubbed a hand over his sore ribs. Shit, it had been a while since he and Sam had done anything like this. Hadn’t really had the time for a vacation lately, even if it was only for a few days.

Psyching himself up, Dean folded towels to put on the floor and kneeled to prep himself. The first cold rush of water against his insides was shocking and he could feel the tension seeping from his muscles already with the routine of it, with the promise. It was so so tempting to jerk off with his ass up on the bathroom floor as the water sloshed inside him and he held it there, heavy and full, his cock hanging hard between his legs as he folded his arms on the floor and rested his head against them.

After voiding, he ran the shower hot and cleaned everything else thoroughly. Relaxed and loose under the mildly decent shower spray, he lubed up his fingers to get himself stretched out. One foot hitched on the bathroom tub ledge, water splashing over with the curtain open, he reached behind himself to twist three fingers inside.

Cleaned and prepped, he toweled off dry. The bathroom was hot and steamy, and his hangover had eased. The tight coil of tension and anxiety in his gut from always being on his toes had started to loosen a little. Tossing his wet towel on the hook over the back of the door, Dean rolled his shoulders and breathed for a minute before making it back out into the motel room, still naked.

Sam was waiting for him. His brother had already shoved the two beds up against one wall to make a space on the floor where blankets and pillows were mounded. Toys were laid out on the table. Sam smiled sweetly, all dimples and bright eyes, as he stepped up to Dean with the collar in his hand.

“You ready?”

Dean didn’t talk, he was already deep enough in his head, just nodded. Sam reached up and closed the wide band of leather around Dean’s neck, buckling it in the back. The leather was scuffed and worn smooth, a simple black band with a D-ring in the front. They’d had it since before Sam went to Stanford. Dean had kept it. The whole time.

Sam’s big hands cradled his head, thumbs brushing against the edge of the collar.

“Good pup.”

-

No matter how many times they did this, Sam couldn’t believe what his brother gave him. Dean would give - had given - anything for Sam. It just took some fine tuning to figure out what Dean loved giving up the best and what Sam could give him in return. What they both needed. The when and the how. Sam still couldn’t figure out the why, but he was past caring on that point.

Dean wore stress more visibly. The alcohol binges and late nights, bruises under his eyes and shakes in his hands. But Sam was ground down too - hazards of the job - and they both needed this.

Buckling the collar on Dean’s neck, Sam pulled him in and kissed his forehead before pushing him to his knees. Dean went easily, dropping down and bowing his head, silent. Sam pushed his fingers through short wet hair, Dean leaning in to the touch. When Sam stepped away, Dean followed.

At the kitchen table, Sam had their equipment laid out. They’d collected a few strange pieces here and there. One of his favorites was the thick black plug that had a foot long tail curving up out the end, stiff enough to stand up but malleable enough to wag. Dean was kneeling at his feet, eyes wide looking at the toys and his mouth slightly parted. His cock wasn’t fully erect but it was thick. His skin was scrubbed pink from the shower, his body relaxed with slightly hunched shoulders as he waited.

“Present.”

Immediately, Dean turned around and pushed his ass up in to the air. God but his ass. Arms folded on the floor and head down, his back curved up to his ass and his legs spread, Sam had to admit it was a hell of a sight. Crouching behind Dean, Sam slicked his fingers and pressed several into Dean, feeling him already stretched giving way easily, opening up slick as Dean whimpered and tilted his hips up higher.

“Very good pup.”

Laying a swat on his lightly freckled ass, Sam pulled his fingers out and slicked up the plug. Holding a hand on one of Dean’s hips he pressed it inside slowly, steadily, giving a harder push at the widest part before it tapered to the base. Dean rolled his shoulders and rocked back, wiggling his hips side to side so that the little tail swayed easily. Sam couldn’t help a small laugh. Dean was watching over his shoulder as Sam flicked the tail.

“Up.”

Dean pushed up to rest with his butt to his heels, hands on his thighs, watching Sam. He picked the face mask up from the table next. This had taken him a while to find, he’d bought a few different pairs of ears or gags or muzzles for Dean over the years. But this. It was kind of like a harness for the face, with cute floppy black leather ears on the top and a strap that ran down the middle of the forehead and the nose before spreading out over the tops of the cheeks, connecting above and below the ears with a large silver ring that could be used with different attachments for the mouth. Multi purpose. Sam strapped Dean in but left the mouth uncovered for now.

Ruffling Dean’s hair and the ears on his head, Sam stooped to one knee to run his hands over Dean’s shoulders, his chest and arms. Dean sighed and swayed, eyes drooping, tipping in to the contact. Sam let his hands wander down to the tops of Dean’s muscular thighs, his cock hard now tapping up against his stomach but Sam avoided that.

Standing again, he decided to use the mitts as well. Black leather like everything else, of course, round mitts to keep him from using his hands. Sliding them on and buckling them at the wrist, Sam patted Dean’s arm.

“Stand.”

Dean rose obediently, arms loose at his sides, watching Sam move around him as Sam finished with the knee pads. Patting Dean’s flanks, he commanded again, “Down.”

On his hands and knees, Dean rubbed his face on a forearm and yawned, moving his hips to swish his tail a little. Sam got the steel bowl from the bag and filled it with water at the sink, setting it down at the table. Dean bent forward to drink from the bowl right away. He hadn’t had breakfast yet though. So Sam fixed him something, liquids only, a chocolate protein shake that normally Dean would refuse to go anywhere near.

But he drank it from Sam’s hand, at his feet. Just to put some nutrients in his belly. Sam held Dean’s chin in one hand and tipped the cup carefully as his pup drank what he was given. As soon as it was gone, Dean was lapping up water again.

Sam flipped his laptop open. He had barely opened an e-book when Dean was nudging at his knee.

“You want to play on your own or do you want to play with me pup?”

Dean pushed himself closer, resting his head on Sam’s thigh. His pretty face looked even more delicate framed in black leather straps, green eyes popping.

“I was in the middle of something but I got something you could help with pup.”

Unzipping his jeans, lifting off the seat to push them down a few inches, Sam pulled his soft cock out and patted his thigh, widening his legs. Dean shuffled in closer underneath the table and lay his head in the vee of Sam’s thigh, opening his mouth and letting his eyes flutter shut as Sam pulled Dean’s face a little closer and rested his cock inside his brother’s warm mouth.

Petting over the leather straps and Dean’s soft hair, scratching at the back of his neck, Sam went back to reading as he distractedly pet the pup. It wasn’t even an hour when Dean had given up being a docile cockwarmer and went for laving his tongue against Sam’s cock. That wasn’t quite the game.

Sam scratched behind his ears and warned, “You up to something pup? Let me read a little more and I’ll play with you.”

Dean shifted, rubbing his shoulders against Sam’s legs, closed his lips tighter and started sucking. Sam let himself enjoy it for a moment, and honestly he’d barely been able to focus on what he had been reading, before he jerked Dean back by one of the straps.

“It’s all right, I’ve got something to help you behave a little better pup.”

Pushing Dean back, Sam tucked himself in and leaned across the table to root through the bag. Hand closing around hard metal he pulled the ring gag out. Scooting his chair back from the table and motioning Dean out, Sam snapped one leather strap to the ring on his face harness and pulled Dean’s mouth open wide to fix the ring behind his teeth, tugging the leather tight to snap in on the other side and adjusting it.

Dean whimpered. He squirmed and wriggled his little tail. Drool started trickling out the bottom of his mouth.

“Ah, I’m being inconsiderate, I should have made sure you were done with your water first huh?”

The bowl on the floor was empty, but Sam still got another large glass of water and settled down to pull Dean between his legs. Tipping Dean’s head up, Sam held him still as he poured slowly into Dean’s open mouth. Dean struggled a minute to swallow open mouthed, water splashing down his chin and chest, and when he finally caught the hang of it Sam poured the water faster, too fast, Dean choking and sniffling and getting all wet from it.

Sam patted him on the cheek, snagging a kitchen towel to wipe his face. Wet leather wasn’t really a pleasant experience. Dean’s tongue lolled out of the gag as he tried to lick his lips and couldn’t, pushing at the gag with his tongue instead, dribbling water and spit.

Pushing him back under the table, Sam picked up where he left off, Dean’s head in his lap and Sam’s cock in Dean’s now pried open mouth. Finding his spot again in his reading, Sam pushed his fingers through Dean’s hair, not minding the drool that trickled down into his lap. He gave it another hour, Dean getting increasingly squirmy, before Sam straightened up and nudged Dean away.

Dean made his way over to the front door and made a soft grunting noise. He nudged his face against the door and looked pleadingly at Sam. He clenched his thighs together and his tail started wagging faster and faster as his whimpering turned high pitched. Sam ignored him. Scrolled through what he was reading. Kept a watch on Dean through the corner of his eye. Palmed himself under the table until he was hard and aching. He’d give Dean maybe another five minutes before he broke.

The kitchenette area had a flecked linoleum tile floor, which was perfect. Past the room divider, the sleep area had carpet. But in front of the door the floor was hard. Sam had his eyes away from Dean when he heard the splash of piss on the floor, hard and insistent. Slamming his lap top shut, he stood from the table and strode over to Dean who was hunched in the corner, body low, trembling a little as he finished and started scooting away.

This part was always hard. Sam knew though by now, through snippets of drunken ramblings and confessions, that Dean liked this - needed this - this set up, an infraction, something bad, a punishment, forgiveness, reassurance. It was still weird to Sam, but he liked it more than he might admit to himself, having this control - over Dean, over his body and over his actions.

“What did you do?”

-

Badbadbad. So bad. He couldn’t just wait another few minutes for Sam to notice. Couldn’t just hold it. Bad. Now he’d made a mess all over the floor. It felt so good to just let it out, he hadn’t realized how much he’d had to go. But now there was a puddle on the floor and Sam was standing over him with hands on his hips and his brow all scrunched up. _What did you do?_

Badbad. Whimpering and ducking his head, he wished he could just disappear from all his problems and all the bad things he’d done. He did a lot of bad things.

“Bad pup!”

A strong hand grabbed the back of his collar, pulling. He had been scooting away from the mess he made, but Sam made him look at it, made him see it. Just how bad he was. The strong hand tugged him back over to the corner and shoved. Pushed his face down against it, wet on the smooth floor. He couldn’t close his mouth with the thing shoved in it, couldn’t plead or beg. Couldn’t scrabble his fingers against the floor and try to get away, his hands just slid smooth and the hand on the back of his neck was too strong holding him down.

“You clean up your messes.”

Whimpering and tugging at the hand that held him, he let his tongue loll out the gag and he tried. He tried as hard as he could and he lapped at the mess he’d made and shook because he was just so bad. It was acrid and bitter on his tongue, wet on his cheek when his face was pressed down again, and there wasn’t really anything that he could do to fight it.

“I’ll show you what a mess is.”

Sam pushed his face in to the corner of the room and he staid there, head low, shoulders bowed down. He felt tugging at the tail inside him, twisting, and he didn’t want his tail to be taken away, he could be good. The tugging stretch at the rim of his hole sent a pleasurable shiver up his spine as a harsh slap cracked over his ass.

He was empty. Empty and dirty and bad and it was wrong.

Then Sam was hauling him back, and he felt the slide of a thick cock between his cheeks, felt it catch against his hole and press, pull back, slide and press. He ached and he wanted, pushing back, head dropped down to the mess on the floor but he made that mess - he was bad.

He couldn’t stop the groan, couldn’t even stifle it with his mouth held open, as Sam thrust in to him with a quick sharp snap of hips, jostling him forward but a hand held the collar he wore and kept him in place.

Sam was good. Sam knew what he needed. Sam would take care of him, and he could be good again.

The stretch almost hurt but it pressed so deep and the sudden fullness - even better than his tail - had his toes curling against slick linoleum as he rolled his hips and whined like a bitch for it.

The hand on his collar pulled harsh, back arching and cutting off his breath. Lashes blinking wet with tears and his mess, spit wet down his chin and chest sloppy with all of it, he jerked as a calloused hand wrapped around his cock and slid up the hot length, squeezing and dragging. The tension low in his gut was a hot heavy weight, pressure at the base of his spine, the cock inside him pushing insistent where it lit up the ripples of electricity sparking hotter and higher.

“Go on, make the fucking mess worse.”

Eyes squeezed shut, slipping on the floor, held in place with strong strong arms, he screamed through his gag as he came and all the tension, all the shame twisted up in knots, spooled away loose as his limbs went slack and he slumped in Sam’s hold.

Empty. Sam pulled back, fingers tracing the sensitive almost too much wet hole, pushing back inside and twisting. Empty. A sharp crack on his ass and the heat of Sam’s solid body was leaving.

He simpered and turned around, Sam tugging on his collar again. Cock hard and flushed, broad palm stripping the length fast, fast and he knelt up nudging his face against Sam’s thigh - jeans fallen around his knees

Sam pressed the head of his cock inside the ring that held his mouth open. He lapped at it, tried to press forward, wanted more, bitter thick taste, bead of come salty. Sam held his head by the ears and jerked until he splashed hot, coating the inside and pulling back to make a mess of his face too. Hot and thick and sticky, Sam shivered and gripped hard in his hair, hand lingering on his cock as he went soft.

“Now that’s a fucking mess.”

Sam patted the side of his face. Scratched behind his ears.

“All right pup, that was good. You’re a good boy. Come on let’s get you cleaned up.”

A strap on the side of his face was unclicked and suddenly he could move his mouth again. Jaw stiff, face filthy, he worked his mouth open and closed with a click. A hand tugging under his collar drew him forward.

“Come on, bathroom time.”

Sam led him in to the bathroom. He sat on the cold tile floor. The smell was pungent on his body. Sam started the tap on the tub, water splashing into the pale blue tub as Sam turned to him and started removing things. The ears. The mitts. Sam set them all in the sink. He sat on his haunches. He could be a good boy. He could be good. 

Rubbing his nose on the back of his arm, he stood when Sam tugged him up. Removed the knee pads. Nudged him towards the tub.

“Go on, get in.”

He knelt in the tub. The water was blissfully hot. Dipping his head under the water and rinsing his mouth out, he settled on his hands and knees as Sam stripped out of his soiled clothes and knelt beside the tub. Sam lathered him up, carefully washed his face first with gentle strokes. Cupped him in large capable hands. Soaped up the wash cloth and cleaned him thoroughly everywhere.

This was his favorite part. Sam always forgave him. Even if he made messes. Sam knew how to take care of messes. Clean them up. Clean him up. Make it better. And he’d be good next time.

-

Letting the soapy dirty water swirl down the drain, Sam ran clean water to scoop up in a cup and pour over Dean’s body, rinsing him off. Dean sat contentedly, docile even, moving where Sam moved him and staying. Freckled skin rippled over muscle and Dean hummed quietly in pleasure.

This was nice. Getting washed up together. When Dean let Sam take care of him. Running his hands over his brother’s body and washing everything away, Sam felt relaxed and content. He should hop in the shower too, but after he’d gotten Dean put down for a nap. Most of the mess in the kitchen had gotten on his clothes, anyway.

“All right pup, all done. Stand.”

Dean yawned and blinked at him. Sam nudged him and stood, holding up a towel. Dean stood and held out his arms. Sam toweled him down dry and ruffled his short hair. Dean was smiling by the end of it. The collar was the only thing Sam was going to put back on him. Cleaning it off gently with a little soap in the sink, he buckled it around Dean’s neck again and pulled him out of the tub. Dean knelt again as soon as he was out.

Sam led him back in to the motel room and over to the little bed of blankets he’d made on the floor. Sitting down cross legged, Dean crawled half in to his lap. Sam pet through his hair and circled his hand down Dean’s back, running up his side, along his arms. Dean practically melted. He’d get some good sleep now at least. Take a long nap. Sam would feed him when he woke back up, but he figured that Dean should keep the collar on for the rest of the day and probably some of tomorrow. They’d get some good sleep together that night.

Leaning against the wall of the motel, he pet Dean until he felt his brother go limp with sleep, a light snoring starting up as he nuzzled against Sam’s bare thigh. Easing out from under Dean, Sam made sure he was covered in a blanket where he was curled up. Sam would take care of cleaning up the kitchen. Clean off the equipment. Make sure everything was tidy and neat. Then he might just indulge in a nap himself.

Sometimes, he and Dean needed time off to take care of each other. And if that included a collar and a bag of toys, well, at least they’d figured out what worked.


End file.
